Ídhracca Miqe
by only.a.small.fish
Summary: Lindir is overworking himself in preparation for the holidays. Elrond takes his mind off work with a little history lesson and mistletoe.


Rivendell had always been wonderfully decorated for the holidays, but this year, it seemed that Lord Elrond was going to particular lengths. He had ordered holly clippings to be shipped in from Mirkwood and ribbons from Minas Tirith; trees to be cut down from above the valley and baubles to be crafted by the most skilled of hands. Music danced through every hall as the minstrels practiced their solstice ballads and tuned their lutes, while down by the kitchens, the mouthwatering scent of pastries and sweetmeats left any who passed by with an aching hunger in their bellies.

With such preparations at hand, those who resided within the walls of the Last Homely House were never unoccupied for more than a moment, bustling to and fro with armfuls of tassels, bells and many other beautiful things. But, of all the elves who lived under the kind mastery of lord Elrond, there was one who worked far harder than the rest.

Lindir had barely the chance to eat, he was so busy. As the chief of staff and his lord's personal attendant, Lindir juggled his tasks feverishly and not once had he sat down to even touch his harp. With his lord to bathe, dress and see to, holiday preparations to supervise, messes to clean up, all on top of his routine daily duties, by the time the other elves had retired to bed, poor Lindir was still up and he toiled late into the night. When he finally did collapse onto his bed, exhausted and delirious, he barely had more than a few hours of fretful sleep before he was called to awaken once again. Sometimes he barely had enough strength to dress himself before he stumbled out into another day of exhausting work.

It was on one of these particular mornings when his lord noticed that something was gravely amiss. Elrond had been watching his beloved attendant carefully over the past few days and had begun to notice dark circles appearing under his eyes. While this was a slight change, it was not uncommon for Lindir to work late into the evenings, so Elrond paid it little mind. Although, he had discovered a prominent absence of Lindir during the day. Times when the pretty young elf had lingered in his chambers to dust his books, or when he sat with Elrond while he drank his afternoon tea were now empty and the elf lord found himself alone, usually with another elf serving him. But Lindir still faithfully came to him every morning to prepare his bath, to serve him breakfast and to change his sheets. He had begun to shorten the time he spent in his lord's chambers and had become increasingly more quiet, but had never failed to wake his lord with a soft and gentle smile.

However, today Lindir was far from his usual self. He opened the curtains slowly, leaning into the soft drapes to use them for support. He woke Elrond with a hoarse whisper, the elf lord opening his eyes to a pale face void of any sort of smile. He moved slowly, with dreary, uncalculated movements as he pulled back the sheets and helped his lord to stand. Elrond watched with concern as he struggled with the bedsheets, kneeling on the floor and pressing his body onto the mattress to steady himself. It was lucky that Elrond was watching him, for after only a few moments, his head began to nod forward and his arms began to shake. With a sudden quivering gasp, he tumbled forward and landed face first onto the half-stripped bed.

"Lindir!" Elrond exclaimed, dashing to his attendant's side. He seized the elf's slim shoulders and rolled him over gently, having to suppress a gasp as he saw Lindir's face fully.

The poor little elf was extremely pale and the circles under his eyes were so dark they seemed like bruises on his ghostly cheeks. His hair was mussed, unlike the neatly styled mane Lindir sported daily and his rumpled clothes were the same ones,Elrond noticed, that he had worn the day before. Although there wasn't much evidence, the elf lord also noticed that his face seemed slimmer, as if he had been deprived of food for a few days.

He patted Lindir's cheek gently, trying to wake him. "Lindir! Lindir!" he cried, but the minstrel lay motionless in his arms. He was becoming very frantic and panic was welling up inside of him. In his fright, he forgot that he was a healer and that he could do a quick examination to assess the situation. Instead, he clutched his attendant's unconscious body in a terrible state, stroking his pale face and calling out his name in a panic. It wasn't until Lindir made a small noise of sleepy neutrality, that Elrond could come properly to his senses. The tiny noise calmed him almost instantly as he discovered that his precious little Lindir had simply fallen asleep.

Letting out a pent up sigh of relief, Elrond began to stroke Lindir's soft hair. He sensed someone walking past the closed door of his chambers and called out to them softly.

"Hello? I need some assistance," he said. The person stopped and pushed open the door quickly. His daughter, Arwen, gasped aloud when she saw her father clutching his fallen attendant.

"Oh, Ada! What has happened? Is he alright?" she demanded, flying to his side in a flurry of long hair and blue skirts. Elrond nodded with a smile.

"Yes, he's quite alright. He just needs some rest," he said reassuringly. Arwen sighed and visibly relaxed. "Could you find someone to finish making my bed? Please ask them to use my softest linens; I would like Lindir to be as comfortable as possible."

"Why not take him back to his rooms Ada?" Arwen inquired.

"I would like to keep an eye on him. He is very dear to me and deserves this much," Elrond replied. Arwen nodded and got to her feet.

"I shall return as soon as I can Ada," she said and disappeared from the room with her long blue skirts fluttering behind her.

Elrond turned his attentions back to the lovely elf he held in his arms. It was not known to anyone, but he had long felt soft feelings for Lindir. The young elf had come to him as an orphan, abandoned by his parents whom had both chosen to sail without him. Elrond had immediately felt a connection with the dirty young thing that had entered his house and he had wasted no effort in making him feel as welcome and loved as possible. From the beginning, Lindir had expressed both a talent and liking to work, to which Elrond complied by making him part of his staff. Lindir had moved quickly up in the ranks of domestic elves, all of whom had admired him greatly for his skill and expertise. Soon became head of staff. Elrond found himself smitten with the innocent, devoted politeness of Lindir. His kindness was without competition, his shy elegance a rare find and his beauty was unrivalled by all.

Elrond knew he was far too old for such a young thing. He would surely find love, what with his skills and general charm. What he did not know, however, was that someone pined for him in return, and felt the same feelings of hopelessness in the field of love.

Arwen returned shortly, accompanied by a young female elf with bright eyes and a freckled complection that contrasted wonderfully with her wavy auburn hair.

"I've brought Lintagwen," Arwen said. "She'll get the bed ready faster than anything."

Lintagwen bowed respectfully and immediately jumped to her task, setting down the sheets she held in her arms. Arwen had indeed been correct; Lintagwen was very fast. She had made the bed in only a few short minutes and was soon plumping the pillows into the most comfortable shape.

"I've finished, my lord Elrond," she said, stepping away from the bed. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Not at the moment. Thank you," Elrond said with a grateful smile. Lintagwen nodded and swished out of the room, leaving Arwen standing in the doorway.

"I'll leave you be," she said. "But if you need anything, just call for me. I shall see that it is fulfilled."

Elrond beamed at his daughter. What a lovely young woman she was. "Thank you Arwen." She tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled at her father, before exiting the room after Lintagwen, shutting the door gently behind her.

Elrond turned back to Lindir, still asleep in his arms.

"Oh, my darling Lindir," he said, sliding one arm under the elf's legs and the other behind his back. "You work too hard." He lifted the little elf in his arms and carried him to the freshly made bed, setting him down onto soft sheets with the utmost care. He began to unlace Lindir's boots, pulling them off and placing them on the floor next to the bed. His nimble fingers removed his attendant's over robe, the flowy blue fabric sliding over his hands. Elrond smiled fondly at it; he had given it to Lindir when he had first arrived in Imladris and was touched that Lindir had kept it for so long. He folded it carefully and placed it on the end of the bed to be washed later.

Now he turned to the task that would test his self control, and his dignity. Inhaling deeply, he seated himself onto the bed next to Lindir and, gingerly, began to unbutton the dark purple robe that snuggled up against his skin.

Elrond attempted to regulate himself as he released the purple covered buttons from each one of their little thread button holes. It was a simple enough task, but as his hands moved down Lindir's front, each button undone revealed more of his lily white chest. Though Elrond was known for his resilience and his calm stature, the elf that he was on the outside could not entirely silence the human desires that burned within.

He contained a gasp in his throat as the front of the robe fell away, exposing Lindir's body to the warm morning light. Lindir was scarred, so horribly, it looked as if he had been attacked by a warg or a rogue orc wielding a dagger. One might have suspected such calamities, but Elrond's trained eye recognized the scars as those of a jagged rock, or perhaps several. The raised parts of skin were too scattered and random to have been deliberate. He concluded that Lindir must have fallen down a cliff or something similar as an elfling, for the scars seemed to have grown with him.

Oh, but he was beautiful.

Lindir glowed in the bright shaft of sunlight that pierced through the curtains. His skin, although mangled and torn, made him seem like some slumbering warrior, resting after a great battle. Yet, at the same time, he was delicate and angelic, almost as if made of glass. His peaceful, sleeping face was so exquisitely beautiful that it made Elrond weak. He wanted nothing more than to gaze at the sight before him for eternity. The curve of his chest, the hollow of his neck, the smooth hills of shoulders the rise and dip of his stomach.

Lindir moved suddenly, shifting in his sleep and bringing Elrond out of his trance. The elf lord coughed in embarrassment at his wandering eyes, though there was no one about to judge, and began to pull Lindir's arms from the sleeves of his robe. This came off more quickly than the job he had made of the buttons, and he was soon adding the piece of purple cloth to its blue companion.

Elrond quickly dressed his sleeping attendant in a soft robe of finest silk, hand crafted in Dale before the fires wrought the city. It was the color of fresh cream and lighter than mithril, a fluttery palliament that resembled more of a dress than a robe. However, it was among Elrond's favorites and he slipped his little minstrel into it with care. Once Lindir was dressed in the lovely cloth, Elrond shucked his trousers quickly from underneath, without looking.

Having become very flustered, despite himself, lord Elrond finished swiftly. He tucked Lindir under the sheets lovingly, drew the drapes shut, tidied up a few random things and poured him a fresh glass of water from the jug on the bedside table. Though he did all of this in only a few short minutes, he paused and allowed himself to slow down as he prepared to leave.

Elrond walked over to where Lindir lay, occupying his own bed and snuggled in warmly under the soft blankets that he himself used. He smiled to himself as he stroked Lindir's forehead soothingly. A verse from a song Lindir had once wrote came to his mind, and his tongue chose to act upon it.

The songbird doth dwell in high apple boughs.

It sings aloud happily as the morning doth grow.

Who shall hear him, I fear there is none.

Although he is pretty, he is but one.

Elrond bent to place a tiny kiss to Lindir's smooth cheek.

"Sleep well, my little songbird."

The birdsong that filled the chamber was cheerful and rich, a different tune from that which is heard in the morning. Something of an afternoon ballad. Golden light fell on the slumbering figure, causing him to glow with contentment whilst he slept.

Lindir smiled as he snuggled deeper into the soft clouds that enveloped him. How silky and cushy the blankets were; warm and smooth, smelling just like his lord Elrond. Oh, it was lovely. He had not felt this comfortable in many a fortnight.

Wait.

Afternoon birds? Warm blankets? Lord Elrond?

Lindir's eyes flashed open and he bolted upright in alarm. He wasn't in his bedroom, so where was he? The young elf stared about him as his eyes began to adjust to being awoken so abruptly. The first thing he noticed was the light. It was far too orange to be of the morn, the shadows it cast far too long.

"What time is it?" Lindir wondered aloud, beginning to panic. A thrush trilled past the open window. Lindir stared after it with a horrified expression.

"How could I have slept so late?!" he cried. "I have so many things to do! And it's already so late in the day!" He threw back the blankets and placed his feet on the floor, preparing to bolt across the room to his wardrobe and slip into something random. But, there was no wardrobe across from him. In fact, there was no wardrobe against any of the walls. Lindir stared around, struggling to decipher where this oddly familiar room was. His eyes fell upon a desk by the spacious balcony and it all became clear.

"This is my lord Elrond's chambers!" he gasped, standing quite suddenly. "How on earth did I come to be here?" He put his arm at his side, but his hand recoiled immediately upon feeling an unfamiliar fabric beneath it. Lindir looked down at himself and his eyes widened.

"M-my lord's robe!" he said in wonder, recognizing the unique garment instantly. "What is going on?"

"You've awoken, I see," came a voice. Lindir whipped his head to the source and felt himself astonished yet again.

Elrond leant against the door, a pile of folded purple cloth in his hands. He gave Lindir a knowing smile in response to the minstrel's own shocked one. Stepping into the room, he placed the cloths onto the foot of the bed, barely bending over and keeping his eyes glued to his bewildered assistant.

"You can change into these, when you're ready," he said kindly, touching the top of the pile he had just released from his grasp. "Just place the one you're wearing on my chair, it shall be dealt with."

"I-I...what?" Lindir stared at his master, utterly lost. Elrond chuckled.

"Get ready, my dearest Lindir. I have food awaiting you in the glass gardens. Hurry, before it goes cold," he declared. With that, and a last little smile, he disappeared from the room, closing the door behind him with a click and leaving Lindir standing alone in the middle of the carpet.

Lindir had never been more out of sorts in his life. He had just awoken in his beloved master's bed, wearing his clothes, was being waited upon and had just been called 'dearest'. Lindir gasped aloud suddenly. His lord; his gentle, elegant, handsome, strong lord had just uttered the word 'dearest'. To him! Lindir felt as though he had begun to glow.

For many years he had tended to lord Elrond. He had been there for him through everything; cared for him, listened to his sorrows and to his thoughts. Lindir had never loved anyone before, not truly. But even though he was many thousands of years younger than his lord, he knew with all his heart that he loved him. But he also knew that he was very, very late. So many of his duties had surely been neglected and there was no time left to do them.

He scrambled into the robes Elrond had provided for him, quivering with both excitement and worry. The aching tiredness that had been steadily growing up in him over the few days prior was gone as if it had never been, but the determination to work still remained. He stepped into his boots and scampered towards the mirror, running his fingers through his long chestnut locks. When he was finally satisfied with what he saw in the reflective glass, he marched over to the door, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the corridor.

His jaw dropped. All about him, there were decorations hanging from the roof, twirled around the pillars and splayed across the walls. He stumbled forward and began to speed walk down to the kitchens. As he approached, the smell of food tempted him greatly but he was not there to eat. Sticking his head in through the door, he was shocked yet again by what he saw.

The kitchens were bursting with elves and food. Extra hands were stirring soup, mincing vegetables and kneading bread, filling the kitchen to its full capacity; rather than the three or four cooks that usually resided there.

Lindir stepped away from the doors, turning around quickly. However, when he did, he nearly fell against the doors he'd just closed.

There were elves cleaning and working everywhere, many of whom were not to be working on such a level. Lindir recognized Glorfindel, the great lord, dusting the windowsills; Arwen, the beautiful evenstar sweeping a dirty hall. He was aghast to see through the window, that even his lord Elrond was hanging decorations down in the gardens.

Wringing his hands and cursing himself, Lindir bolted down the hall, spotting more elves of higher status performing his own tasks. But the only one he was interested in stopping at the moment was his beautiful lord. He barreled down the stairs, arriving at the bottom to see Elrond hanging a bushel of green plant in a small, nearly hidden archway. The elf lord was illuminated from behind, the sunlight bouncing off the white blanket of snow that lay up in the gardens and making the small corridor very dark and casting a silhouette-like appearance on Elrond.

"My lord!" Lindir cried "My lord, what are you doing?" He dashed to his lord's side and attempted to tug him away.

"Why are you here? You should be in the glass gardens," Elrond said, ignoring Lindir's question.

"I haven't the time to eat!" Lindir protested. " Why is everyone doing my work? I just saw Glorfindel and your daughter doing menial chores! And you, my lord! This is not a task for your hands!"

"You have been working too hard Lindir. You need rest," Elrond said. Lindir shook his head and stepped up into the small archway so that he was facing his lord; he was shorter, yes, but still tried to stare his lord in the eye. He may have seemed determined and proper, but his heart was blocking his throat and pounding in his ears.

"We're only helping Lindir.,"

"No, my lord," Lindir said, denying his lord for the first time. It made him feel giddy. "This is servant's work. I cannot allow you to continue," he stated. Elrond raised his eyebrows and looked up at the stone archway only a few feet above them.

"Oh? Well, I've already finished," he said, pointing to the sprig of plant above them. Lindir stared at it with curiosity. Why would his lord hang such a thing? It wasn't very festive.

"Do you know what that is, Lindir?" Elrond inquired, somewhat mysteriously.

"Mistletoe, sir?" he replied. It was a simple enough question, but Lindir had begun to sense that there was more to the question than he was understanding. Elrond nodded and continued to look up at the small plant. Lindir too looked up at it, but it wasn't a remarkable piece of mistletoe. It looked like any other twig; curved green sprigs with oval-shaped leaves and tiny white berries nestled in among them. As Lindir was gazing up at the cutting, struggling to find the hidden meaning in lord Elrond's words, he was oblivious to his lord looking away from the subject of interest and instead, turning his eyes to him.

"Yes," Elrond replied, gazing at Lindir's curious upturned face. "It is a human custom."

"A human custom? But mistletoe is a weed my lord," Lindir said, dropping his gaze. He was slightly astonished to see Elrond staring at him and suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"Humans hang this little plant…" Elrond reached up to brush it with his fingertips. "...During the time of the holidays."

Lindir glanced up at it briefly.

"It is said, in an ancient tale told by man, that a maiden once had a son whom was hunted by many evil folk. She begged the Valar to grant her with something she could use to protect her boy, and she was given the power to speak to all living things. Using this power, she asked all the beings of the earth; rocks, birds, plants, animals - not to harm her son. However, she forgot about one plant. Mistletoe was forgotten.

"An evil man discovered her neglect and used mistletoe to fashion an arrow. He shot the maiden's son down in front of her and she wept bitterly. Her tears formed the berries, pure and many, like the rivers of sorrow from whence they came. Instead of condemning the little plant, she placed an enchantment upon it, deeming that any who passed beneath it, she would plant unto them, a kiss. Though the tale is often forgotten, men hang mistletoe so that it shall never be forgotten again."

Elrond lifted a hand slowly, placing it against Lindir's cheek. The minstrel flushed at his master's touch, the rapid beating of his heart threatening to explode from his chest.

"Why...why are you telling me this?" he asked quietly, forgetting his station. Lord Elrond brought their faces closer together, his eyes of amber gazing softly into Lindir's own.

"Because, I believe that we could learn a few things from the customs of men," he replied, stroking one thumb over Lindir's smooth cheek. "And that mistletoe shouldn't be forgotten."

He touched his nose to Lindir's, their breaths mingling into one. Lindir gripped the fabric of his robes in tight fists in a vain attempt to control himself as Elrond leant over him. The elf lord spoke again, his voice hoarse and his breathing rapid.

"Neither should this kiss," he murmured.

In a sudden flush of movement, he crashed his lips to Lindir's, clutching the minstrel's face with both hands. He ravished Lindir's mouth as gently as he could, but his need to feel his attendant's soft lips was nearly too much. Lindir stumbled backwards, his hands flying to Elrond's arms to steady himself as his eyes widened in shock. Elrond dropped one hand from his face and wrapped it around his slim waist, pulling Lindir's waist into him, but keeping his back arched so that the elf lord was forced to bend over as he kissed him.

Though Elrond daren't, he ached to slide his tongue between those sweet, sweet lips and taste Lindir's mouth. He resorted to clutching Lindir possessively, hungering for the beauty of Lindir's mouth with as much gentility as he could muster. He was afraid to let go of Lindir, lest he moaned in pleasure.

Lindir had never been to heaven, or anywhere close to there, but this...this had to be far better. Never had he dreamed that his love, his lord, would kiss him so. Elrond was so desperate, so passionate that Lindir was afraid that he'd lose himself in lord Elrond's arms. Oh, what a lovely place to be! He feared that he would cry when Elrond finally pulled away, and was ashamed to say that he whimpered.

"I'm sorry," Elrond breathed, pushing himself away from Lindir, who was blushing more intensely than ever thought possible. He fell against the wall opposite Elrond, trembling like a leaf. Elrond looked up at him with eyes heavy with guilt. He knew he had been out of control, that he had taken Lindir without consent. He wanted to leave, to run like an elfling who knew he had committed a wrong, but he couldn't move his legs.

"That was very wrong of me. I'm sorry Lindir, I-"

Lindir didn't let him finish. He threw himself at his lord and glued his lips to the ones that had left his own only moments before. Elrond was taken by surprise, but only for a moment before enveloping Lindir in a tight embrace as they kissed. Lindir was terrified of himself, terrified that he would do something wrong, but the adrenaline that pulsed through him erased all thoughts other than how beautiful his beloved lord Elrond was. Lindir was disappointed when Elrond pulled away, but it didn't last long, for the smile his lord wore shone brighter than any Lindir had ever seen.

"How long?" he asked. The question was vague, but Lindir knew the answer immediately.

He beamed up at the seemingly ageless warrior who held him, tears like shimmering diamonds glistening in his eyes. "I have loved you for so long, my lord. If I were to write a list of all the times I thought of you in a single day, the parchment would stretch to Erebor and back."

"Oh, Lindir. My sweet minstrel," he said lovingly, pressing his forehead to Lindir's. "I cannot rival with the beauty you express with your words, my beautiful songbird, but I can tell you this." Elrond's eyes sparkled with a light worthy to rival those of the stars.

"From this day forth, mistletoe shall never be forgotten." He kissed Lindir once more and the minstrel knew that what he said was true.

Mistletoe would never be forgotten.


End file.
